


The Other Guy (Falling in Love at the Olive Garden)

by Iron_Heart



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: AU, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Greg Serrano - Freeform, I love Grebecca so much, I was so sad when Greg left that I started this fic, It's taken legit forever but I finally finished it, Rebecca Bunch - Freeform, Season 2, grebecca
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Heart/pseuds/Iron_Heart
Summary: A story that answers the question: What if Greg had actually met Rebecca on that bridge in Season 2?An AU fix-it of sorts that no one actually asked for.





	The Other Guy (Falling in Love at the Olive Garden)

Greg almost hated himself for the wide, idiotic smile he could feel spreading across his face as he walked through the park. But he couldn’t help it.

Running into Rebecca yesterday had been so unexpected; he hated to use the phrase “it was a sign” but what other explanation was there? He had wanted Rebecca since the day she walked up to his bar and into his life. The two weeks they spent together were some of the best times of his life and, next to not making it to Emory, screwing up the night of the wedding was his biggest regret to date.

He watched Rebecca glance anxiously at her phone again before scanning the park, supposedly for him. It was now or never. 

“Hey, Bunch.”

Momentarily startled, Rebecca spun around haphazardly. The look of surprise in her eyes softened into something sweeter when Greg gave her a small grin.

“Hey, Serrano,” she finally responded.

For a moment they simply stared at one another, both enjoying the moment and contemplating what was supposed to happen next.

“I didn’t,” Rebecca started at the same time Greg opened his mouth to speak. After the mandatory awkward chuckle, Greg motioned for her to continue.

“I just...I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to show,” she admitted with a guilty shrug.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was going to show either,” Greg confessed with a shrug of his own.

“What made you decide?”

Greg took a moment to contemplate his words before responding. “I don’t know,” he breathed out. “But what I do know is, I’ve walked away from you before and I haven’t stopped regretting it. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

The honesty of his words and the certainty in his voice left Rebecca momentarily speechless. This was not the same man who called her “cool” in response to her heartfelt confession. This was the Greg she knew existed all along.

“Well, I’m really happy to see you,” she confessed with a shy smile.

Greg returned her smile with his own, reaching for her hand.

“I believe you promised me corporate, mass produced Italian food,” he joked.

“Yes, that was indeed part of the deal,” she giggled.

Greg suddenly stood straighter, offering Rebecca his arm. “Shall we, Milady?” he quipped with a poor excuse for a British accent.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. “Why yes, good Sir!” She returned with an equally exaggerated voice.

Taking his offered arm, Rebecca felt lighter than she had all month.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant was surprisingly calm for dinner time and the couple was seated immediately in a small booth towards the back. Between bites of complimentary breadsticks (“They’re not authentic!” “They’re covered in garlic and salt, who cares!”) the pair casually bantered back and forth.

It was nice to have this comfortable familiarity still between them. Despite everything they've been through, somehow they’ve manage to keep this ability to banter and soften in each other’s presence.

Once the orders have been placed and the salads delivered, Greg eyed Rebecca with a conflicted expression.

“What’s on your mind, Serrano?”

“I’m worried this is going to come out wrong…,” he responded slowly, still eyeing her in a way that made Rebecca nervous. Did he already regret meeting her on the bridge? Did he think this was a mistake?

“Just say what you’re feeling.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.

Greg plucked a breadstick from the basket and start ripping it in to small pieces. What did normal people do with their hands?

“Let me just say, I meant what I said at the duck pond.” He watched her scrunch up her eyebrows, obviously trying to replay their conversation over again in her head.

“Huh?”

Greg took a deep breath. “I loved you…Love you, “he quickly corrected. “Not past tense."

“Not past tense,” Rebecca repeated, grinning as his words started to sink in.

“No,” he grinned back. “You’re a hard woman to get over, Bunch.”

“What can I say? I’m a catch,” she shrugged.

Greg chuckled softly, but went back to his breadstick, clearly feeling his agitation return.

“You are. Which makes what I’m about to say so much harder…”

“Would either of you like cheese?”

Rebecca could have strangled this waitress and her timing. Who cares about cheese at a time like this?!

As it happens, she does want cheese on her ziti. Even when it prompts the waitress to make some horrible joke about “making her 5 cheese ziti a 6 cheese ziti!”.

The air between them adopts a stiffness that makes Rebecca lose her appetite, but thankfully their waitress picks up on the shift in mood and makes a hasty escape, leaving the couple to their tension and pasta. 

As much as she doesn’t want to hear this apparently devastating news, sitting in anticipation makes Rebecca feel like she might spontaneously combust in this booth.

“You were saying…,” she murmurs, her voice betraying her.

Greg pushed his pasta around with his fork and took a deep breath. “I’m going to Emory!” His voice sounded strangled and the grimace on his face was supposed to be a smile. Yesterday this was a great accomplishment, his path out of this hell-hole town and part of the positive changes he was making in his life with his newfound sobriety. But now…

Now his success was starting to feel like a sacrifice.

Now Rebecca was staring back at him, eyes wide and searching.  

Now he wasn’t sure if it was possible to be that person who had everything.

“Oh! I mean…that’s…congratulations!” Whatever she thought he was going to say, this obviously wasn’t it. “It’s…what you’ve always wanted.” Her voice and smile were soft, but the pain in her eyes could not be masked.

“My dad sold the house,” he offers. “He’s giving me the money to finally go to business school.”

She wanted to be happy for him. She really did. “So, that means you’re leaving.”

“I wish it didn’t.” And he really didn’t.

“But I have to. For me. I’ve put it off long enough and if I don’t do it now, I never will.”

He needed her to understand. She had to understand. It wasn’t about not choosing her. He just had to choose himself for a change.

“But what about us?” Rebecca was no longer trying to hide the sadness in her voice or the tears threatening to fall. “What about all that stuff you just said? Where does that leave us?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Greg noticed that neither of them had touched their pasta and his cooling alfredo looked like it was already starting to congeal. Why did he think this was an ideal setting for this conversation?

“I meant all that stuff I said,” Greg promised, his lyrical voice washing over her. “I do love you, of course I love you!” Rebecca reached for his hand across the table.

“But I think I need to learn to love myself a little more,” he admitted, still holding her hand. “And that means I need to keep up with my program, get myself to Emory, and actually start going after what makes me happy?” His statement morphed mid-sentence into a question. “It still feels like an odd concept, but Gaurdrail tells me it gets easier,” he shrugged.

“You deserve to be happy, Greg.”

He squeezed her hand. “You make me happy, Rebecca. And I know it isn’t ideal. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear. But I love you and I have to go to Atlanta and I really want there to be a scenario in all of this where I can actually have it all.”

“I love you too.”

At this point Greg has told Rebecca that he loved her a total of three times. The first being at the duck pond where she found him a week ago and twice in this conversation. This was the first time she had said it back and it felt even better than Greg could have imagined.

“So, I mean, I guess I could relocate. They have law firms in Atlanta and real estate. It can’t be that hard to find a job,” she started brainstorming out loud.

“Wait, Rebecca, hold on,” he tried to interject. “Taking it slow, remember?”

“Right,” she blushed.

“I think this is something I need to do on my own,” he explained. “I think it would be good, for both of us even, to figure out our own stuff before we start talking about moving across the country together.” She chewed on her bottom lip and contemplated what he was saying. Maybe Greg had a point. 

“What about long distance?” he proposed. “We can start slow and it’s not like I’ll never be back to visit, my dad is still here," Greg assured. "You’re still here.”

“And I can come visit during your breaks?” she suggested. “I’ve never been to Georgia.”

He smiled, hopeful in a way he hasn’t experienced in years. “I’d like that,” he confirmed. “And between visits there’s always FaceTime and texting.”

“And, of course, Words With Friends.” Rebecca raised her eyebrow suggestively.

“You know I love a good word game,” Greg responded with a seductive stare of his own that made Rebeca giggle under his gaze. “So we’re really doing this?”

“When do we start?”

**Author's Note:**

> Should I explore this further? If there is any interest I might be swayed :)   
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
